


Expecto Amnesium

by woyo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Patronus, Sentimental
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-04-22 16:42:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14312901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/woyo/pseuds/woyo
Summary: Severus Snape found a rare potion that made its drinker review the memory in a realistic way when performing a Patronus. Yet it had side effects...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Got this idea from dear @IonicAmalgam . But I am afraid that this story won’t develop as she has expected.

Severus Snape, the Headmaster in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, was doing a thorough cleanup in a dessert shop, also known as, Headmaster’s office.

“May I assume I am the successor of some dessert shop in Hogsmeade instead of the Headmaster’s office, Dumbledore?” Snape cast an “Accio sweets” and “Protego”, marveling at the spectacle that umpteen kinds of sweet fleeting to him.

The Dumbledore in portrait chose to visit other portraits in Hogwarts, avoiding the awkward scene that Snape replaced all he once owned with his possessions.

Snape sighed. He had known that great wizard had sweet tooth - all the passwords of his office were desserts, but, that much? Hiding so many in his office?

The office was in a chaos, given that all the sweets had just left their shelters in such a rapid speed. However, something caught Snape’s eyes among all those mess.

A book.

Dog-eared. The pages of which yellowish.

Amidst those iridescent wrappers, the book stood out.

Out of slight curiosity, Snape took it up. To his astonishment, it’s a book on potions making, on the cover of which marked in unmistakable handwriting of Dumbledore, “Dark Magic. Side effects are unbearable”. What was Dumbledore playing at? Brewing a potion on his own?

He browsed the book causally and a potion came into his notice.

...drink it before casting a Patronus. The memory you use to perform the spell will be reviewed in a vivid way. Almost realistic hallucination.

Side effect: you will forget this memory forever. This potion is usually used for condemned criminals before their execution as an action of humanity.

Driven by a motive from nowhere, Snape pocketed the book without informing Dumbledore when the old guy returned from other portraits with a merry smile on his face.

“Happy with what you’ve got, Severus?” asked Dumbledore.

“As happy as you are,” said Snape dryly. “After the war, I would prefer somewhere more suitable for an old man rather than a fusion of candies, if I ever manage to survive.”

Honestly, survival didn’t mean so much to him at that moment. He might commit suicide as long as the Dark Lord fell then perhaps he could meet his Lily in the afterlife. If not, he would strangle Merlin for what the bloody hell of life had he sent to him.

Snape mused, fingering the book in his pocket.

 

Snape has no time to ponder on the potion afterwards as the bestial Carrows put the whole Hogwarts under their tyranny. Detentions. Tortures. Pains. The hospital wing was always overloaded. Thus, he was busy making more effective healing potions for Madam Pomfrey so the book lay idle in his drawer for a long time.

However, it’s odd that that book often haunted his mind: he craved to re-feel the touch in his vivid memories, regain the fever crush once burnt in his young heart. Now those feelings still existed yet they had faded into smoldering ashes, from which on phoenix ever came out.

 

Breathing the chilly air in Dean Forest, Snape looked around, spotting Potter doing his watch.

He dropped the Gryffindor sword into the chilly lake nearby - Snape never failed to torture Potter as long as he could and not put him in mortal peril. Then he focused on the day Lily called him “Sev” instead of “Severus”...

His heart stung.

That memory was faded. He was growing old. An old man couldn’t remember everything he experienced, could he? Snape knew the realization that crashed over him when he found his name could be so beautifully spoken between her lips. Yet there was nothing left. What robe did she wear that day? What were they talking about afterwards? His memory betrayed him.

“Expecto Patronum,” whispered Snape. Of course he’s capable of a nonverbal one, yet he needed that little noise to divert Potter’s attention to...this way. Also, the ability of performing a Patronus soothed him, assuring him that life wasn’t full of regrets and redemption, though the mirth was always too fragile to be touched.

How desperate he was to make it true! Even in a split second! There were eons of darkness ahead whilst the only source of light was left behind him, for all eternity.

The redhead was rescuing Potter form the lake. He hated to see such reunion as his would only come in afterlife. Sighing gloomily, Snape turned and set off.

 

“How is it going?” was the first thing Dumbledore in portrait asked the moment he hit the grounds of Hogwarts. Merlin, he had long known that great wizard never cared about him, nor Potter or even himself - he cared only about victory.

“Everything goes well. Potter gets the sword. And the icy lake in Dean Forest is delightful. Thank you for assigning me to such a charming night expedition,” sad Snape with his usual sarcastic tone.

“Well, well,” smile Dumbledore, “don’t be so - ”

“I need to rest, if you excuse me/”

 He had no intention to linger. Once he got his chamber, Snape opened the book.

This potion was named Once More - a poetical name, which portrayed its function exactly. The Potions Master examined the ingredients and discovered they were not so rare or expensive as he had expected. Most of them could be found in Hogwarts while the rest could be available in any apothecary outside.

The impulse allured him.

Let me have a try, thought Snape.

It’s a risk. Enormous risk indeed, given that he didn’t had so many happy memories for trials or any volunteers who could sacrifice their own ones, he had little chance. It had to be improved. He could lose no memories.

Not a single one.

 The most precious treasure that kept him alive, both physically and mentally, all lurked in his mind, the mind that even the Dark Lord failed to fathom.

That night was doomed to be sleepless.

 

Five detentions today from the Carrows.

Madam Pomfrey was complaining loudly about the frequency yet Snape could do nothing. The Dark Lord was watching him and everyone knew Severus Snape was a blood-curdling fiend like any other Death Eaters.

And as good as a turncoat.

A murderer, as well.

He had took notes on how he brewed Once More. The stirs, the ingredients, the heating time and temperature. He would make it accurate that how he created this bloody hell. Also, he added some soothing herbs that had a reputation for easing the aftermath.

If only amnesia was some kind of aftermath.

Snape chose a starry night to drink his first Once More. It had been a long time before he finally decided what memory he would give out. Couldn’t be a monumental one, nor too happy. They day he wore the Dark Mark had been one of his happiest memories, but not anymore after Lily’s death. Before he drained the phial, Snape scribbled a few words on the notebook.

Then everything spun.

It was a sunset. A spectacular one. He and Lily was roaming along the lake side after dinner. There were pleasant breezes, her hair messy in the cozy air.

Lily stared at the scarlet globe that was sinking under the surface. Snape stared at her.

“The setting sun had boundless beauty , yet the darkness is so near,” said Lily, still lost in thoughts.

“Isn’t the dark the other side of the coin?” said Snape.

Lily chuckled.

Bathed in the breezes, Snape was dazzled an lost in trance. Which one was more flamboyant, the sinking sun or her hair?

He couldn’t tell.

He wished it were forever. They would forever stand by the Black Lake in Hogwarts with no Potter in the castle to worry about. Merlin, make my memory amber, make it enduring.

Snape woke up.

It’s not like a dream. A coma might be a proper term. The Headmaster of Hogwarts lay on the stone floor in his chamber, his obsidian eyes blank and bottomless.

He blinked, slowly getting to his feet.

What happened? It’s like waking from a most pleasant dream with committing nothing into his memory. What memory had he used?

No idea.

Snape grabbed the notebook and checked it. Before he drank the potion, he scribbled:

 

_Go to the Black Lake._

 

What the bloody hell?

Anyway, Snape put on his usual black cloak and stroke out of the castle. It was wicked and wild wind, messing his hair as Snape walking towards the lake.

The Black lake was deadly quiet. No merpeople. No tiny bubbles emerged from surface. Not a spark of light ever reincarnate itself.

He stood here for a long time, not recalling any merry memory that have taken place here.

Had there been any Gryffindor who happened to be peering through their window, why would find their formidable Headmaster, the bat of the dungeons, lingering besides the lake, looking like a puppet on a lonely string more than ever before.


	2. Chapter 2

Potter had rushed out of Headmaster’s office.

The Pensieve sat on the desk, bathed in the gazes from portraits on wall.

Then the door was open again - a dark-haired man stammered in, his robe dirty and bloodstained.

“Severus,” greeted Dumbledore in portrait, “you are injured.”

Snape merely raised an eyebrow in response.

Carefully, he recollected the swimming threads of memory. Those silver blue threads slithered against the tip of his wand and wormed their way into his head.

“It does not do to dwell on memories and forget to live, Severus,” said Dumbledore.

“Memory,” said Snape, “is all I have.”

He took a book from the shelf and left without turning back, leaving the door ajar.

 

Snape’s new residence was an inconspicuous flat near the Knockdown Alley. He cast umpteen charms to change his appearance so that he could hit the streets occasionally without being noticed.

The Dark Lord had fallen. And thanks to dear Harry Potter, it seemed like the whole wizarding world was obsessed with the tragic hero, Severus Snape. He took a glimpse at some newspaper that post his so-called stories, some of which even described him as some stud. Cockamamie world.

Hogwarts professors’ salary was not so high. Yet Snape didn’t need so much money. The school provided him with food, ingredients and dwellings. Almost like a home to him. And as the reward of killing Dumbledore, Snape received a handsome amount of Gallons from the Dark Lord. So in fact, money wasn’t such a problem for him who led a simple life.

Therefore he devoted all the time to the potion.

Once More. Just once...and more.

He had smuggled some of his store in Hogwarts upon his departure, yet they were running out. He needed new ones.

Besides, Snape had a breakthrough in surveying the potion. Among the ingredients was a herb called Helluc, which was known as a powerful hallucination. Its side effect was exactly amnesia. That’s why in the dark corner of some apothecaries in Knockdown Alley, certain customers would find potions with Helluc as an essential ingredient. Those potions were often used to seduce witch in order to shag them and left the victim unaware of anything happened.

So he needed the antidote to it. If there didn’t exist one, he would be the first to invent it.

 

A windy dusk. Not so many wizards lounged in Diagon Alley due to the bad weather.

Severus Snape, dressed in his usual black, applied some magic to make him look like a porky old gentleman and walked into an apothecary.

“Hello, sir. How could I help you?” greeted the clerk in his shoppe.

“I’d like to know whether there exists any antidote to Helluc, be they potions or herbs,” said Snape.

The clerk frowned.

Snape stared into his eyes and the poor man shivered.

“It’s forbidden, sir. Against the law. We are not supposed to sell them in public or - ” stuttered the clerk.

“Funny. I am under the impression that everyone who bothers to pay one Gallon could buy a sufficient amount of Helluc to seduce an innocent witch. Why it’s illegal when it comes to its antidote?” he sneered.

“We are not in Knockdown Alley, sir,” said the clerk. “We decent wizards here only sell things that are permitted - ”

“So you are telling me that tarnishing a woman is perfectly legal while rescuing one is not.”

He surrendered. “Fine, sir. But...but you need to register your name in case - ”

Snape grabbed the quill and scribbled violently. He wrote the first fake name that came to his mind - Als Ledore.

“Weird name. Are you a foreigner, sir?”

Snape answered by tossing the money at him and storming out with the herb in his hand.

_I am a foreigner. An outcast. Nowhere is my home._

 

Snape had to admit that quickly as his ingredients running out, his memory disappeared even faster. He marveled at the phial of Once More he had imbibed. They were wonderful, always wonderful. More effective than Dreamless Sleep, which would never grant him with smile the moment he woke up from Merlin-knows-what dream.

He added the antidote into the cauldron, it bubbling softly. A pleasant scent ensued. He enjoyed it.

Somehow he felt like those seduced woman, holding to a transient dream and refused to face the bestial reality.

Since the dreams were so delightful, why bother to wake up?

Besides the antidote, Snape bought some bear-shaped cookies from a Muggle shop as well. Unlike Dumbledore, Snape never enjoyed sweets - they were for puerile infants. Yet these cookies were an exception. Rare exception.

The odor of Once More changed a little this time. He wondered whether the antidote worked. There was only one way to check - drink it.

Snape took out the very notebook he had used since the first brewing of Once More. Half of the pages were written with his thoughts, attempts and procedures. Now he added a new line.

Then he drained the phial.

“Expecto Patronum,” whispered Snape, as if touching some delicate china.

The scene shifted.

He was lying in the bed of hospital wing. Potter and Black broke his arm by pushing him downstairs when he walked towards the Great Hall. Making a mental note to invent a spell that could cause mortal wounds on enemies, Snape groaned in pain. Madam Pomfrey administered some salve and performed several healing spells on him. He could have rested a little longer, yet the Potions was the first class this afternoon and he had no intention to miss it.

Not for Slughorn, of course.

Because Slytherins and Gryffindors had Potions together.

He rushed to Slughorn’s dungeon the moment he began the class. Taking his usual seat besides Lily, Snape saw Potter and Black exchange a mischievous look.

“How are you, Sev?” breathed Lily. “They say you are seriously injured.”

“Madam Pomfrey healed me. See? I am fine.”

A noise from Snape’s belly betrayed him.

“You missed lunch?”

“Given that I was in the hospital wing, yes,” admitted Snape awkwardly.

Lily didn’t speak. Several minutes later, when Slughorn’s attention was diverted, she thrust something in Snape’s hands.

A pocket of bear-shaped cookies.

“What’s that?” Snape tore it open quietly.

“Muggle snacks,” said Lily. “I owled my parents last week, saying I miss Muggle cookies. So they deliver some to ease my nostalgia. Help yourself, you must be starving.”

Under the cover of the cauldron on table, Snape bent over a little and quickly took a bite. They wee sweet. Yummy, though sweet. Crispy, though sweet. Marvelous, though sweet.

“Thank you,” he said, finishing them all hastily.

And everything swirled again before his outstretched hand found Lily’s.

Again, the Half-Blood Prince lay on the armchair, clenching the phial in his hand.

Something sweet lingered between his teeth. He blinked some liquid in his eyes away and reached for the notebook.

 

_Do you like those cookies?_

 

Next to the notebook lay a pocket of cookies. Snape frowned - why would he be in favor of such Muggle things? Odd.

He tore the pocket open roughly and took a handful. Creepy. He would never eat such things.

Yet the scent of it coincided with the sweet favor now lingering between his teeth. Baffling.

And slowly, Snape clenched his fist. Those cookies were ground into brown powders. He kept grinding, and they all fled from the gap of his fingers.

So did his memory.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there. Long time no see. Just graduated from my senior high school and I lost EA's outline in the chaos of graduation. Need time to rearrange the plot [what the hell happens next???].  
> Anyway, I am back

Snape left most of his possessions in Hogwarts, apart from those he cherished so much that he hid them into a box and transfigured it in order to carry them everywhere he went.

Among those treasures was a music box, the lacquer of which had faded away. Snape never turned it on after Lily’s death.

 

It was proved that the antidote didn’t help at all. Thus the Potions Master sought another way - what about a substitute? When the ingredients were scatter and expensive, that’s what he always did to save money for Hogwarts. The core of Once More was hallucination. Realistic hallucination. That’s all.

There must be a substitute with no side effect.

Snape changed his exterior into a dwarf with funny mustache. He knew there were shadow dealings in the dark side of Knockdown Alley - drugs, illegally traded creatures, slaves and sinister potions.

Hallucination was a commonplace here.

Walking downstairs, Snape stopped when faced with a dirty wooden door, behind which was the black market.

Lucious brought him here once to sell some of his possessions. That’s why he knew the password.

“Dragoon,” he hissed.

The door swung open and he strode in. The air inside smelt horrible, reminding him of dead animals.

“How could I help you, sir?” someone approached him.

“Hallucination. Those with no side effect. No amnesia.”

“May I acknowledge its use?”

_To ease my pain. To fill my void life._

“I don’t reckon it necessary.”

“Well then, this way.”

Snape was led to a small stall, the owner of which resembled Trelawney very much, though she was much older.

“You’ve imbibed something improper for you, sir.” she said.

“None of your business, madam,” he hissed.

“...and you are veiling yourself with a fake appearance,” she continued, ignoring his irritated look. “Stop hallucination abuse. Restore normality. Forgetting is cozy.”

Snape pointed his wand at her. “One last time: any hallucination free of amnesia?”

“Of course, sir,” the woman grinned cryptically. “Here you are. One Gallon per ounce.”

 

When he emerged from the basement, Snape caught sight of someone reading newspaper waiting for his coffee, the front page of which bore his moving photo, glaring at everyone in proximity. The passage was written by Rita Skeeter, the notorious bitch. She claimed that she had “an access to the deep mind of Severus Snape and his miserable love life”. funny, he never had such ridiculous impression.

The whole wizarding world thought he was dead. They had combed the Shrieking Shack, of course, yet the mediocre Aurors found nothing but the dirt that perhaps had existed twenty years ago. The Ministry assumed Lord Voldemort fed him to Nagini or had his body burnt into ashes. Tales were carried around, distorted to cater for people’s favor. They loved novelty, loved love spy stories, loved fucking plots twist. That’s why Snape chose not to show up on the stage where his entire life was being scrutinized, tagged epic and angst and played over and over again until somebody bothered to stand out and put an end to this farce.

Next to the photo was a Lily Evans, peering through the surface of Daily Prophet. They crowned her, like they did 17 years ago. Lily was described to be “endowed with the beauty of Helen that reverses the trend of war”. Severus Snape and Lily Evans. Romeo and Juliet. 世仇. house prejudice. Blah blah.

Except that the so-called Juliet never loved Romeo. Never.

Staring at the photo, Snape was lost in a trance. The woman was so familiar and so far away from him. His memory had faded and lost bit by bit. Did he still love her now? Could love without memory be intact?

Snape shook the sense off.

Of course he did. Or what’s he doing all this for?

 

The substitute was fabulous. Snape had took some solely, seeing a Lord Voldemort dancing jazz in baby pink bikini whilst a Bellatrix Lestrange dive into an enormous cauldron. No headache afterwards. No amnesia. No anxiety. All was well.

So he started brewing.

Once More took a long time to brew, during which time he would clear his mind and ruminated. He thought of the final battle night, he staggered into Headmaster’s office. Dumbledore said something arcane about not dwelling in memory. Besides, the wicked book was found in his office in the first place. So maybe he had drunk Once More before? And he lost his memory so the book lay abandoned in his office?

No idea.

The potion was ready and Snape drained it.

“Expecto Patronum,” he said, focusing on a memory in Christmas - he only had one decent Christmas.

 

Lucious had invited him to Malfoy Manor but he reclined, saying he had piled homework to do. Actually he had none. None at all. Snape just loathed to spend Christmas with another family while his own would undoubtedly spend this day for quarrel like they did any other days in the year.

And no Christmas presents.

On students’ returning, Snape stood around the gates to greet Lily, who had just come back form home.

The moment she saw him, Lily gave him a carefully wrapped box.

“What’s that?” he babbled.

“For you, Sev. Christmas gift. Open it up.”

They roamed around the castle and settled down in a public ground. Sitting on a booth side by side, they watched the snow flakes falling and Snape opened it.

A Muggle music box.

Snape raised a brow.

“Turn it on,” urged Lily. “It plays my favorite song. A newly one. Released just months ago.”

So he turned the knob.

A sentimental voice floated out. That man did get a talent in singing.

“This is _WHAM!_ ,” beamed Lily. “My favorite Muggle band. It’s established in...”

She went on and on, telling him how much she loved them. how Muggles played songs, how Muggles kept a record. Snape nodded absentmindedly, hearing nothing at all - he just eyed her, committing every whits of this Christmas into his meager memory.

He collected the music box n a place where nobody else could found. Slytherins hated Muggle things. It’s as good as treason if he played it in Slytherin common room. Yet knowing its existence was enough for him.

The memory ended here.

The first thing Snape did after his eyes fluttered open was to reach for the notebook, which was under an ancient music box. It read:

 

_Turn it on._

 

He did as told. And the raspy music flooded into the small room.

_“Should’ve known better not to cheat a friend. I wasted a chance I’ve been given. So I never gonna...”_

 

Enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Careless Whisper was released when they were 14.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are sincerely welcomed.


End file.
